Follow Freeman
by Vesna625
Summary: A Half-Life 2 fic. A citizen gets transferred to City 17; coincidentally on the same train as the infamous Gordon Freeman. As the rebellion begins, will the regular civillian answer the Feeman's call to battle, war, and revolution? Mild violence/language.
1. Chapter 1: Welcome to City 17

Disclaimer: I do not own Half-Life 2 or any of the characters in it. Awesome game, though.

Summary: A normal citizen is relocated to City 17. Yet what will happen when the revolution begins?

* * *

"Welcome to City 17. It's safer here."

Helena sighed. She had just gotten off of the train, and already she was sick of this Breencast shit.

_Does anyone even believe what he says?_

"Were you the only ones on that train?" she heard a desperate voice call out. Helena turned around and saw a woman standing at the gate. Upon seeing Helena's questioning gaze, the woman clarified, "Overwatch stopped our train in the woods, and took my husband for questioning. They said he'd be back on the next train. I'm not sure how long ago that was…." there her voice trailed off into barely concealed sobs. Helena bowed her head in sympathy. This combine oppression has already ruined too many lives.

Helena glanced around. She appeared to be in a large waiting room. There was a large billboard; train names and departure times _(only departure times... strange)_ were displayed in dull, yellow letters. There were a few people here. Helena paused for a second, straining to listen.

"They are always departing but they never arrive... and the ones that do arrive... they never leave... you never see them go yet they're always full... no one ever gets on but they're always... they're always departing but they never arrive..."

A man was pacing back and forth in front of the billboard, repeating the line like a mantra. The mutterings bordered on hysteria. Helena sighed. It was time to move on.

She and the three other passengers walked down the corridor, to one of the combine checkpoints. She hoped they would find her passport alright. They were notorious for torturing civilians for even the most trivial matters. Along with the suppression field in place, the human population was taking quite a beating from this, dropping from 8 billion to less than 1 billion in 20 years.

Sparing a second, she looked at her fellow passengers. Two were the usual city inhibitors. The third bothered her. He did not act like a normal civilian. Most people know to keep their heads down, and look only at their feet to try, and appear as insignificant as possible. The penalty for not following these unconscious customs was almost always trouble, torture, and even death. This man strode slowly, while curiously looking about. In fact, he looked more clueless than dangerous.

_That attitude will get him killed. I can only pray the combine don't decide to arrest us along with him._

As she predicted, the man was quickly ushered into an office room. Helena knew well enough what would happen to him there. Tortured for non-existent answers, then sent on a train to Nova Prospect… and either killed... or even worse... made into a stalker. Although that was far from her mind at the moment, as she was occupied with praying to every deity she knew that the combine wouldn't make her follow suit. She approached the checkpoint. After a few long moments…..

"You're clear."

As soon as the words left the CP's mouth, Helena moved down the corridor, not wanting to give the combine another reason to detain her. She turned the corner, glad to be out of sight. Now, out of danger herself, she spared a moment to pray for the damned man's soul. After finishing that, she sat down at the nearest table to eat the meager food ration she brought with her from City 13. Her uncle, the last of her family, had joined the Civil Protection to feed himself and his niece. Now that she was reassigned to a different city, she would have to learn to cope with the public food, although her uncle would probably still send food when he could.

It took her only a few minutes to finish the whole meal. There wasn't that much and no one in their right minds would take time to savior the taste. In fact, most people would prefer to shove it down their throats in an attempt to pass the tongue, just to escape the taste of the food.

First things first. She would need to reach the compound in which she was going to live for….. god knows how long. It may be the rest of her life or just a few minutes. Helena kept walking towards the exit, keeping her head down and shoulders scrunched up. She reached the door without incident. Only briefly hesitating, she pushed open the door and walked outside into the square.

It wasn't much to look at. The air wasn't fresh, and the city itself looked like it could use quite a bit of repairing. CP patrols and observation towers dotted the roofs in search of suspicious activity, and the ominous citadel loomed over the city, reminding everyone of its inescapable presence. Even though it was sunny that day, it still felt like a heavy shadow had fallen onto the city. The square was eerily quiet, and only the occasional squawking of birds and hum of machinery broke the silence.

Besides the citadel, the most prominent feature of the square was the TV screen on top of a large brick spire. It was turned off right now, but Helena was sure that it was used to broadcast Dr. Breen and his unconvincing speeches.

However, she quickly remembered why she was here and took out a map from her briefcase. She unfolded it and had begun to study it when she felt a slight breeze as someone ran by. Helena lowered the map a bit to see who was in such a hurry to get out of here. She located the culprit pretty easily, yet as soon as she did, Helena started to wonder if she was beginning to hallucinate from the stress.

_It is the same man from before… The one that was apprehended by the combine!_

She kept staring in disbelief, but quickly recollected her thoughts and focused back on the map. For a few moments, she tried hard to think only about the map, yet the stranger would not leave her thoughts.

_How did he get out? Was he a rebel and killed all of them? Not likely. Perhaps he's a CP himself? Then he would be in uniform. Maybe he is a high-ranking scientist or something of that sort? Perhaps. In fact, that is the most probable explanation._

Despite the difficulty she had in concentrating, she found the apartments she would live in with relative ease. She entered the run-down brick building.

_5th floor east, room 508_

Helena repeated it again like a mantra as she anxiously walked up the stairs. Corridor after corridor was locked with the combine locking mechanism. One of the third floor hallways, while unlocked, was overrun with CP soldiers. She even began to doubt that she would be able to reach her room any time soon. Yet it seems that fate was with her, and she found the fifth floor east corridor to be unlocked and largely unoccupied. She walked down the hallway, looking for room 508. Helena was left with a bit of difficulty, because strangely none of the rooms had doors…..

After being much disoriented for a few seconds, Helena decided to walk to the nearest room to see if she could inquire about the room numbers from one of the residents. Not finding a doorbell of any sort, she carefully knocked on the doorframe. After hearing no response, she stepped into the apartment. She was relieved to see that it was still occupied by 5 living humans. There were many stories of headcrab outbreaks in apartments like these…

"Was that you knocking? I didn't know we still had a door," one commented.

"I need to find room 508. I was relocated from City 13, and just arrived here."

"Ah! Ya'll be livin' with me then!" a woman with a distinct foreign accent said. "It's two doors down and on de left. Here, let me show ya."

They were about to head out when they heard sirens from outside. Everyone immediately crowded over in front of the broken windows. Helena hesitantly walked over to the window as well, straining to see over the backs of her new acquaintances. There were several CP patrol cars outside of a building down the street.

"It always starts out this way. First the building, then the whole block," one sourly said.

"They have no reason to come to our place," someone tried to be hopefull.

"Don't worry, they'll find one," the former snapped bitterly.

"Anyways, what did ya say your name was?" the woman inquired, hoping to break up the tension.

"Helena. Dr. Helena Rosenthal. I'm a psychologist and somewhat of a field doctor."

"Helena is it? Lovely name. Much better dan mine; Maria. I'm just a blue-collar worker for de combine down in de industrial district."

Maria led Helena down the hall and into their apartment. There was no door here either, and the windows were boarded shut, leaving the room in near darkness. The aqua-blue paint was peeling off of the walls, and the moth-eaten couch and beds screamed anything but comfort. The wooden floors was filled with splinters, and in places boards were missing altogether. On a small wooden table, a TV was busy broadcasting one of the Breencasts, although it thankfully was muted.

"It ain't much. Ya don't even have ta stay in dis room. I sleep over in da one across da hall, although it ain't much better dan dis one. Da only ting you need ta remember is be here when de combine checks da building. De attic is up de stairs over dere if you ever need a breath of fresh air."

After a few more minutes of furious explaining, Maria left to rejoin her friends in the first room. Helena had already unpacked the few possessions that she had and decided to explore a bit. One couldn't be too careful, and she wanted to have some backdoor left if she ever needed a quick getaway.

Several minutes later, Helena decided to take a look at the attic. The 5th floor only had one exit; to the staircase down, and as far as she could see, there were no other ways to escape.

_You can always jump out of a window. Although that will guarantee a few broken bones…_

She finally reached the attic. Helena grasped her jacket; there was a chilly wind blasting through the two open windows. A few black crows were pecking about. Outside, the sirens kept wailing. Through the din, she thought she heard popping sounds… almost like... firecrackers.

_Silly. No one would be shooting fireworks with the combine around. They must be… gunshots?_

So they were shooting. But shooting at what? Or who? Helena turned away from the windows. She did not want to see a massacre on the road below. Yet even after a full minute, the shooting had yet to stop. That was strange. Then again, ever since she stepped off of that train, things became abnormal.

_Is City 17 always like this, or did I just arrive at the wrong time?_

There were a few more gunshots. Helena finally lost the fight against her innate curiosity and slowly creeped toward one of the windows.

_'Curiosity killed the cat, but no one ever says anything about humans._She thought with irony.

She never got a chance to look outside, because someone chose that precise moment to jump through the window from outside, knocking the very surprised doctor down.

* * *

I've never been good at naming things. Sorry. :( I'll also try to update soon, but this will at most only have 8-10 chapters.


	2. Chapter 2: In the Attic

Disclaimer: I do not own Half-Life 2 or any of the characters in it.

Summary: A normal citizen is relocated to City 17. Yet what will happen when the revolution begins?

* * *

_Ouch…_

Taken by surprise, Helena was knocked back about 3 feet before landing on her back. The sudden shock made her wince, and she tightly shut her eyes. It took her a moment to reorganize her brain, yet even still her first thought was somewhere along the lines of _what just happened?_

_Wait, there was a large blur, wasn't there?_

Faced with the probability of possible danger, Helena's eyes flew open as she quickly snapped back to the conscious world. She sat up and watched as her sight was brought back into focus. Yes, there was a dark shape, but it looked sort of familiar…

Then she, for the third time that day, found herself looking at that strange guy from the train station. He was impossible to forget, of course, as his _not-so-typical-these-days_ appearance was a dead giveaway. Yes, the short brown hair was more or less normal, but goatees were not so easy to come by. Large, thick, black-rimmed glasses were not so common either.

Even though it must have caught him by surprise as well, he managed to keep on his feet. If he was dazed, then he hid it pretty well, as he gave no visual sign of any surprise or the like.

_Must be a nociceptive stimulus that caused the motor response… _Helena absently inferred… _The reaction time was too fast for a visual stimulus. Even still, it is pretty remarkable._

Then almost jokingly… _Guess his brain can't really keep up with his body, even if you only realize of a motor response only after it happens. Maybe it takes a minute for the sparks to reach his brain?_ Of course, Helena didn't hear any of it, as the analysis, as well as the sarcasm, was deeply engraved in her sub-consciousness.

The sudden renewed surge of gunshots outside brought them both out of their stupor. The man held out his hand, intending to help Helena up. Helena, suddenly very flustered, nearly jumped up and stood up on her own. They spent a few more seconds staring at each other, Helena (now with a slight blush), and him (as stoic as ever).

Then, he turned abruptly and ran out of the attic and down the stairs. Helena sat back down as soon as he turned the corner. She needed time to think. Her thoughts were interrupted as two loud crashes could be heard below. One was a door being banged open. The other was unmistakably the rotten wooden stairs to the attic collapsing. More sounds followed, these even less welcoming. The radio voices of the combine followed by the electric whir of the buzz-batons.

_Poor guy, I guess it ends here for him._

Yet right after the thought crossed her mind, she heard even more yelling. This time, a triumphant female voice emerged victorious. A little bit of conversation floated up into the bleak attic, yet Helena only heard four words before she fell to the floor in a dead faint, as she was exhausted beyond belief by all of these strange events.

"Dr. Freeman, I presume?"

* * *

"Helena?"

The brief, somewhat worried call wafted in from below.

"Helena?!", somewhat more urgently.

_Just shut up and go away. Can't you see I'm tired?_

More noises followed. Whispering, semi-loud arguments, and fearful statements. Helena recalled a lecture on the brain and hearing she had heard back in college, as it kinda sort of fit with the situation.

_Here's an instinctive survival strategy. When the brain is tired, it automatically shuts down most conscious areas while performing a self-check and the much-needed repair. I say most as in because only the auditory cortex remains operational, and is mostly the only part that tethers us to the conscious world while we sleep (which is why alarms work well in waking and annoying the crap out of sleeping people, especially those loud car-alarm types). Well, once the brain is too tired to wake up, relatively speaking, it will do anything subconsciously to escape the offending noise, even if it defies common sence (most often seen in people smashing their alarms on the table instead of flicking the on/off switch)._

Time to apply to real life.

_I have no control over the noises downstairs, so I bet my brain will attempt an escape strategy. While in some situations such an approach may save my life, jumping out of a 6th story window is not something that would help. Which is exactly what my brain will proceed in doing._

_... Wait a second? Jump out of a 6th story window??_

Helena snapped her eyes open. The soft light of the moon, somewhat diluted by the polluted air, greeted her. She felt a strong wind through her long brown hair, which had long ago nearly completely slipped out of the hairband that would have kept it in a tight ponytail. A car alarm beeped from under her and she looked down...

Down to the street about 60 feet below.

_Oh gods..._

Yet before she could gravitate downward, hands grabbed her from inside the window and pulled her back indoors. Disorganized for what she hoped was the last day today, she fell into the shaking arms of her roomate Maria and some other woman she did not know. All three just sat there for an entire minute, not believing what had happened. Then, wordlessly, Helena's future best friends helped her walk to the door and jump down the ledge where the now-broken stairs were haphazardly piled. There they were greeted by relieved sighs from several other 5th floor east denizens.

After they were sure that Helena was alright, and that no combine city patrol were around, the second woman (who's name was Jane, by the way) turned to Helena and asked...

"What in the world was that all about?"

* * *

It's a short chapter, acting only as a placeholder until I get a few definite ideas. I was stuck a few days on the beggining of this chapter as it is (because I couldn't decide whether or not Gordon would fall on top of Helena, embarrassing style... but after a few tries I wanted to hit myself for thinking of something that weird). But now my writer's block seems to have dissipated, so I should have the next chapter up within a few days.

BTW, I borrowed the name 'Helena Rosenthal' from a Crysis character, as all of names I picked sounded very weird.


	3. Chapter 3: Breaking News

Disclaimer: I don't own Half Life 2 or any of the characters... bla bla bla.

* * *

"I've never seen it lit up like that…"

They were looking at it. Like a dense cloud, the aura that the citadel radiated now had long since suffocated all in the vicinity. And it wasn't even just the physical "land drowning" feeling, as if you are breathing condensed liquid air, but something more. It was more along the lines of all of that pressure going straight to your brain and cutting off its air supply.

As an added bonus for the Combine, this new change aided even further to squash down all possible resistance among civilians. There were few coherent thoughts other than despair and fear.

A cold draft gusted in through a broken window pane. Helena shivered.

_Must be a mental thing. Nothing has physically changed… well, apart from the citadel. It just feels that way. Although I must say it does feel astonishingly real for something supposedly surreal._

They were still staring at it in morbid fascination, not unlike the stares of those who look upon their impending doom.

_Imagine a man. Can be any regular guy; he's a middle-aged blonde Caucasian if it helps you to visualize it any better. He is standing in an open field, somewhere in past-day Kansas perhaps. This guy is staring at a tornado; the one that is coming right at him. Despite the fear, the despair, and maybe a bit of regret, he cannot bring himself to look away. Almost as if the very idea of his imminent demise is fascinating, he keeps staring at that column of death until it engulfs him whole._

_A human so engulfed by fear will stare, as if fascinated, at the source of his near-future death. Like that poor Caucasian dude in my impromptu example, we stared at that citadel; the tornado. It can also be a tsunami, hurricane, a car driving right at you at 80 miles per hour, or a pack of lions (I'll leave you the freedom of choosing which analogy you like best)._

Well, it was not as imminent as a tornado at least, and they couldn't sit and stare at it all night. Helena turned away first, eyes cast downward as if suddenly the floor held all of the secrets of life.

Maria leaned back onto the wall and raised her hands to her face. The wall groaned at the sudden weight and caved in somewhat. One of the guys sat down onto the moth-eaten couch; it was probably cheap even when it was new.

"I feel sorry for the guy they are searching for. He doesn't stand a chance," Maria muttered through her hands, muting her voice a bit.

"Hard to believe they would do all of this just for one man. Just who exactly did they find? Eli Vance?"

Helena snapped her head back up. That guy with the oh-so-outdated-and-nerdy-but-kinda-cute _(make a mental note: do not use the word "cute" in that context anymore)_ style was the reason the Combine finally revealed the core of their Citadel power? Helena's mind refused to process the idea at first. He was simply one man. What could one man do?

_Ah shut it. He should be dead already. No use in worrying about it._

"I think we should retire for the day. Whatever tomorrow brings, we have to be ready for it."

Helena readily agreed. Not only would it give the Combine one less reason to put them in jail, but Helena was already tired enough from the hectic day.

Maria leaned further back on the wall. The saturated cardboard could not support the added weight, and caved into the rotten wooded framework with a loud _squish_. Maria quickly leaped away, as if the wall turned into an angry Rottweiler. After everyone had reassured themselves that the wall posed no threat, each walked back to their rooms.

Despite the fear and worry, the much longed for dreamless sleep came easily to Helena. Morning, however, came way too soon for her taste.

* * *

It was a clear morning. The scorching morning sun illuminated the small room, leaving no place in dark shadow. A siren went off somewhere, but died away just as suddenly several seconds later. Some scattered bits of a Breencast could be heard.

_What a great way to start the morning…_

Helena flipped over onto her back and stretched. Despite the broken springs digging into her backside, she felt pretty well rested. Maria was right: the room they were assigned to was too stuffy to sleep in, so both ended up in the room across the hallway. There were no more unbroken bunk beds and not much space to put one in left in the bedroom, so Helena had volunteered to sleep on an old mattress in the kitchen.

Not that she complained. The small broken window over the sink allowed a fresh morning breeze to flow through the old, stained curtains. In direct contrast, the bedroom was a 4" by 6" closed cubicle. Apart from the empty doorframe, that is.

As she heard quiet scuttling in the hallway, Helena wished she could stay on the mattress and under the moth-eaten blanket. Although likely to provide little to no physical protection, it somehow reassured Helena that nothing bad would happen if she stayed.

She glanced over at the clock. There would be no dallying in bed this morning. She only had 18 minutes to get ready and reach the registration center. Cursing quietly, Helena sat up.

It took her only a few minutes to get dressed, which was not surprising considering the fact that her wardrobe consisted of 3 identical blue uniforms in various stages of disrepair and a pair of undergarments.

The doctor hastily ran down the stairs, greeting other residents with a wave. She also unwittingly took a peek into the 3rd floor hallway where she saw the combine yesterday. It was deserted. Helena continued down.

As she walked out the doors, Helena assumed the demeanor of a normal, insignificant citizen effortlessly. Then she briskly walked to the registration center down the street. It would have been faster to run, but that was like painting a target onto your clothes.

Even though the sun was out, it was a cold day. Still, the chill went unnoticed by Helena. Instead, she focused only on her countenance and her destination.

Speaking of which, she had already arrived. The center looked like it was once a law firm. It had been transformed, however, by the pieces of combine architecture that were added later. A blue force field was set up across the missing doorway, and several turrets were built into the exterior wall. Sentry robots were flying around; they were the technological version of a mosquito. Add two combine sentries at the entrance, and you have one well-guarded building.

Helena walked up to the building. It took quite a bit of mindpower to do it without quivering visibly. She didn't want to give them a reason… any reason to…

"ID?" the mechanical voice seemed pale in comparison to the thumping in her ears. Yet she flashed the card, and the (obviously preferring to be somewhere else) civil patrol soldier disabled the field and let her in. Only the combine could walk directly through the energy. Must be some material in their suits.

The building was no more admirable on the inside. What used to be a luxurious reception room was transformed into something less hospitable. All of the furniture was stacked alongside one wall; it was near impossible to tell what material the couches and chairs were initially, as all were covered with a thick film of dust. As in the residential buildings, the paint was chipped and the walls were moldy. The reception desks were manned by Civil Patrol soldiers, and a combine console had been installed into one of the back walls.

The registration process was nothing glamorous. You fill out a form containing questions like 'When did you arrive?', 'Where are you currently residing?', 'What is your field of expertise?', and so on and so forth. Those that had recently transferred had to fill them out. Then the data was registered into the system and compared to the needs of the city. That was the main reason behind most city transfers. If one city was lacking in workers, the surplus people from other cities would be transferred there. In return, the city could send off its spare doctors to other cities. It was a system the combine implemented well.

_Of course, not many need psychologists. Yet I certainly wasn't lying when said that I had first aid experience. The years following the Seven Hour War were restless, and humans were hunted down by Combine and Xen fauna alike. I found myself assisting doctors at a hospital in a small town near the Baltic Sea. I must have been not any older than 13 at the time..._

Helena tried to shake the cobwebs of memory out of her mind. That was a long time ago... it felt like an entirely different life, in fact.

* * *

As Helena walked outside, she studied the report she had been handed. She was given a job as a nurse in a nearby hospital. So the combine didn't want all of them dead... at least not yet.

A quiet _clap _caught her attention. Maria was standing in front of the street that led to their building. Then she hurriedly turned around and walked down the road. Helena took that as a signal to follow her. She glanced around to see if anyone had noticed, but life went on. Folding the paper up and stuffing it into one of her pockets, Helena followed her friend to see what was important enough that she risked coming for the doctor.

Maria, however, didn't walk straight to their residence. She paused at a food dispenser to get lunch and sat down to eat at a table nearby. Helena knew that it wasn't wise to be seen together. She walked further down the street and got her lunch from a dispenser inside of an old (what used to be a street cafe) building.

_Gross..._

The lunch consisted of a cup of... well... Helena wasn't sure what exactly it was. It looked like a mix of oatmeal and soup, but tasted like neither. Dried and salted strips of synthetic meat and some mashed vegetable completed the meal.

_Here goes nothing..._

After barely managing to choke the food down, Helena began walking to her apartment building, after she saw Maria do the same through the glass wall of the cafe.

They had reached their apartment separately. Maria went around back through the east entrance. Helena entered via the main lobby. Her patience ran to an end, and Helena ran up the stairs to the top floor. She reached the 5th floor...

_It's too quiet..._

Helena cautiously moved down the hallway, glancing into apartments. The first one was empty. So was the second one.

_For once, I'm glad there are no doors._

She kept walking down the corridor. There were no signs of struggle. No bloodstains on the floor, or finger-spaced scratches on the walls... Is this what Maria wanted to show me?

Helena kept walking down the hallway. There were only a few doors left now. Then she heard a distinctive _creak_ of a floorboard... and it wasn't her fault. It came from the next door on the left. She was closer now.

Pausing for a few seconds, she tried to focus. Her pounding heart and shaking limbs made that difficult.

_Okay, okay. Focus... fo... stop shaking, damn it!_

Helena inched closed to the doorframe.

_Almost there... ACK!_

In her shock, she managed to jump a good several feet into the air. Helena nearly screamed.

"JANE! Jesus, you scared me!"

"Ah, sorry Helena. I was just wondering when you'd get here. Everyone is already present, except Maria. She volunteered to get you. Speak of the devil, here she comes."

Jane pulled the startled doctor inside. Maria walked in after them. A few of those who lived on their floor were gathered there, and they all turned to look at the newcomers for a few seconds before looking anxiously back at the antique TV in the center of the room. At the moment, the screen was blank.

"Right on time. The noon Breencast is about to start," Maria was relieved.

"We're actually watching that crap now?"

"No, but this is important. Mihail noticed it this morning. He said he believed it was important. The noon show is always a re-run of the 8am one." Jane filled in.

"I see, but..."

"Shhhh, it's starting," one of the women hushed.

The room was completely silent as the (deceptively happy) music flooded in out of the cheap speakers. It felt so out of place here. Then, the familiar voice of Dr. Wallace Breen wafted in, pleasant and calm as always.

"Today's Breencast is directed not at citizens, who are more than welcome to listen as it does pertain to them, but rather to the Sector Seventeen Overwatch."

_Huh? Well, that's new..._

"Let me say up front that I regret having to temper my heartfelt congratulations with a strong measure of disappointment. But I wouldn't be doing my duty as your Administrator if I didn't pass along the message I have received from our Benefactors.

The capture of Eli Vance is an event of major significance, make no mistake. And while it's true that conceivably we could have taken him at almost any time in the last several years, the manner of his capture may prove to have unexpected benefits..."

_Oh... my... god..._

One of the men reacted first, "WHAT?"

"That can't be! He must be lying."

"Captured? What will happen to him now?"

"SHHH!!"

"...cannot have gone unnoticed by all resistance members that Doctor Vance's capture coincided with the act of giving shelter to Gordon Freeman. This might cause other resistance members to think twice before harboring Doctor Freeman. It might cause them to question his allegiance; even prompt some to turn him out, or turn him over to our cause. However, we cannot count on such developments. Doctor Freeman's reputation is such that other desperate renegades are likely to grant him a great deal of license in the spirit of spreading general chaos and terror..."

"Did he say Dr. Freeman?"

"He meant the legend, didn't he?"

"What does this mean?"

By now the Breencast was forgotten as whispers of disbelief coursed through the audience. Repeated _"shh"_'s were thrown around, but no one paid them much attention. Helena still could hear scraps of the Breencast through the talking.

"...one note of disappointment I... Benefactors. Obviously I am not on the ground to... second-guess the dedicated forces of the Overwatch... shirk responsibility for... and even outright failures on their part... the question to you: How could one man have slipped through your force's fingers... not some agent provocateur or highly trained assassin ... a theoretical physicist who had... at the time of the Black Mesa Incident. I have.. .The man you have consistently failed... simply that--an ordinary man..."

It became impossible to discern anything now. The mumblings had grown in intensity until it nearly reached the volume of loud talking... and it kept getting louder. They needed to control it, but how?

A high-pitched wistle could be heard through the room. All heads turned to the source.

"Okay," Jane began, a bit unsure of herself at first, "Let's try to figure out what exactly happened."

Instant silence...

"We know that Eli Vance was caught. He was also sheltering Freeman when he was apprehended. Right?"

There were a few nods, and Jane appeared to become more confident.

"So... what do we do now?"

* * *

Okay, this is a longer-than-usual chapter. Sorry for those who were waiting. I had simply procrastinated for the past month... saying "I'll do it tomorrow" again and again. At least I finally got around to it. Maybe I'll have the next chapter up within the next two weeks.

Again, sorry to everyone. I have the whole story down in summary, now it's just a matter of willpower to process that into a full-fledged story.


End file.
